


The Scarred Magician

by rootedinsunlight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Comfort, Fix-It, Happy, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kinda, POV Harry Potter, POV Remus Lupin, Pre-Canon, Protective Remus Lupin, Raising Harry Potter, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter, Young Harry, Young Harry Potter, Young Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rootedinsunlight/pseuds/rootedinsunlight
Summary: We all know that Harry was raised by the abusive, neglectful Dursleys, and that Hogwarts gave him his first real escape from that life. What we didn't read about, though, was the small pockets of joy that one scarred "magician" gave him, that made his childhood bearable, that gave Harry the love and hope and trust that we see in him throughout the series.Essentially, I refuse to believe that literally NOBODY checked in on this child for the first ten years he was with the Dursleys. I just refuse to believe it. And I love Remus Lupin and have always liked to headcanon that he visited Harry throughout his childhood just to give him some form of parenting/mentorship/care.This is canon-compliant (albeit through the memory charm loophole).
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 86





	The Scarred Magician

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for implied child abuse and neglect. 
> 
> A headcanon I have that I wanted to write about.
> 
> The detail about young Remus having trouble reading is from MsKingBean89’s work “All The Young Dudes”, in which Remus has dyslexia. that fic is canon for me.

The very first time that Harry meets the magician, he is four. He had been sitting by the edge of the neighborhood pool, stretching his legs to see if his toes could skim the top of the chemically blue water (they couldn't, but maybe he'd get taller soon). The lady in the ice-cream truck had given him an ice lolly for free when Aunt Petunia hurried away after buying Dudley one, and Harry licked at it now, happily watching the kids play in the pool, their shrieks of excitement filling the humid air. Dudley was attending swimming lessons at his preschool, but Harry would have to wait until he started primary school. He spent his days at home with Aunt Petunia or, if he was lucky and if his auntie had something to do, at Ms. Figgs house, which was really quite fun. She let him eat as much lunch as he wanted and showed him cat pictures that looked like they were moving. 

“It waved at me! The picture waved!” Harry would exclaim, giggling hysterically, and Ms. Figgs would wink and put a finger to her lips. He tried to never tell Aunt Petunia about liking it there; he was sure she would never send him again. 

The sun was setting, the orange rays turning everything around him into a funny mix of colors. The pool started clearing out. Harry watched Dudley waddle after Aunt Petunia towards the ice-cream truck again, wailing about wanting more time in the pool. Harry squinted at the sign by his aunt and cousin, trying to make out some of the letters. It was far too blurry, and he rubbed his eyes exasperatedly. Harry was a little afraid that there was something wrong with him, because even Dudley could name the letters on billboards or signs they passed. Harry examined one sticky hand now, his fingers red from the lolly. He rubbed it on his trousers, but that only made his hand stickier, and now his swimming trousers were stained. Uncle Vernon would be furious, he thought miserably. These were new, because Dudley’s had just been too big to stay on.

Harry looked around suddenly, realizing he was mostly alone. He peered over the edge of the pool—it didn’t look _too_ deep, he reasoned. And he could just dip in, wash his hands off and clean the sugar syrup off his trousers, and then come right back out. Harry had played in the small inflatable pool in their backyard before. How much harder could this be? He scooted forward until he was sitting on the very edge of the pool. The water suddenly looked deeper, bluer, hungrier. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. Suspended over the pool, only barely on the ledge, he suddenly felt very afraid to move. He was frozen to the spot, and his teeth chattered. There was a teenage couple splashing around on the far end, but they were paying him no mind. Harry knew he should shout at them to help, but he didn’t want Aunt Petunia to hear and get angry at him for trying to get in the pool. He wished they would look over at him desperately, and tried to will himself to just scoot back. Instead, he felt panic overtake him as he tipped forward, straight towards the water—

Suddenly, he was sitting on the concrete by the pool, far from the edge of the water, comfortable and dry. Harry blinked in confusion. How had he gotten back up? He couldn’t remember. He scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off, startling when he realized he wasn’t alone. The couple was there, yes, but still absorbed in each other. But on a chaise near him was a man with sandy brown hair, reading a book. Harry stared at the cover of the book. It was very colorful, and the book was pretty thin. It didn’t look like a grown-up book at all! Harry giggled, slapping a hand over his mouth when he realized the man had looked up at him then. His feelings of embarrassment evaporated quickly, though, when he was saw the man’s face. The man looked very nice, even though there were funny lines all over his face. His eyes were warm and smiling, and he grinned at Harry. 

“What’s so funny, huh?” the man propped his chin on his hand, closing the book. 

“Why are you reading a children's book? You’re a grown-up!” Harry hoped the man would not be angry with him for this comment. 

The man made an “o” with his mouth and looked at the book curiously, craning his neck to inspect it carefully. He looked at Harry with an awed expression.

“And so it is! I didn’t even notice. Well, you’re a kid! Do you want it?” 

Harry looked at his feet shyly and gave a very tiny nod. The man held the book out. Harry grabbed it and then retreated back, looking at the shiny cover. It looked brand new. 

“Can you read yet?” the man asked. 

“Well…” Harry stalled. “I can read some letters, but not..not if they’re far away, like that.” 

Harry pointed to the sign in the distance. 

The grown-up nodded seriously. 

“Maybe you need glasses,” the grown-up offered. Harry’s eyes widened. He hadn’t considered that. It probably would get him teased even more, though. He must have looked put out, because the grown-up smiled kindly. 

“It’s okay to have trouble reading. Even I did!” 

Harry looked at the man in shock. 

“When you were a kid?” he asked.

“When I was a kid,” the man confirmed.

Harry considered this, and brightened. This man had been reading now, hadn’t he? And he looked normal! Aunt Petunia said that was the most important thing. According to Uncle Vernon, it was your career. Harry tilted his head at the man.

“Do you have a career, sir?’ he asked. He felt bolder than he usually did around grown-ups, but this one just seemed different. 

* * *

Remus found himself surprised, despite everything, and barked out a short laugh. He looked at the child in front of him, a spindly thing with a mess of dark hair. His face was bright and open, waiting for Remus to answer. Remus fiddled with his hands, wondering if this had been a very big mistake. He mussed his hair self-consciously, feeling the seconds stretch out between them. The boy’s green eyes were painfully familiar, and Remus had to tear his gaze away to ease the ache in his chest. 

Remus was on strict orders to never interfere with the boy’s life. His throat had been hoarse on more than one occasion from screaming at Dumbledore, but the old man hadn’t budged. Harry was to stay with his aunt and uncle. And Remus—Remus had been so racked with guilt and grief that he didn’t know what he really wanted. He had been scared to even see Harry for the past four years, avoiding visiting Surrey even as his brain called him awful names for it. Spending the past week watching the Dursleys and little Harry had been more terrible and more wondrous than he could have imagined. This was James and Lily’s child in every sense of the word: not just in the untidy hair and emerald eyes, but in the thrilled way Harry giggled when the neighbor’s dog nuzzled against his shins (heartbreakingly reminiscent of James and Sirius), or the dazzling grin he gave the old woman sitting alone at the park, handing her a flat rock that he had found, making her face crease up in joy (Lily, all Lily).

It wasn’t all Lily and James, though, Remus knew that. Lily and James had been surrounded by love. Remus had never been as angry as he had been when he saw Vernon pull the boy’s hand so hard that Remus was surprised it didn’t snap. And Remus didn’t miss the knobby knees and hollow cheekbones. Arguments with Dumbledore did no good, so Remus was determined to do what small actions he could to make Harry’s life just a tad more bearable. So far, that meant giving Vernon a nasty, painful set of blisters over his hands, and making food miraculously appear near Harry whenever he could without rousing suspicion. Today, it meant stopping the small boy from falling into the pool. _Fuck Dumbledore,_ he thought bitterly. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Was I rude?” Harry said, his voice small. Remus looked back quickly, feeling his heart contract at the fear on the little boy’s face. _What the fuck have Petunia and Vernon done?_ Remus made up his mind quickly, unable to lie to the child fully.

“Er…..I’m a magician.” 

Harry clapped his hands together excitedly. 

“Uncle Vernon does not like that job, he hates magic and other fake stuff, but I think it sounds good,” Harry said in one breath. “Can you show me a trick, sir? _Please?_ ” 

Remus hesitated and looked around at the pool. Petunia and Dudley would be back any second. 

“Pleeeaaaaaseeeee?” Harry begged, “Please, Mr….er…” 

Remus swallowed hard, sitting up.

“Moony. You can call me Mr. Moony.”

So Mr. Moony showed little Harry some magic tricks. Harry laughed giddily as the little umbrella in somebody’s leftover drink turned into a pink frog that hopped away before Harry could catch it, as colorful bubbles humming a nursery rhyme surrounded him, popping with a whistle when Harry touched them, as Mr. Moony sprinkled his fingers and glittering coins and wrapped candies fell from them. 

It was only ten minutes, and then Aunt Petunia came back into the grounds, calling for him with her pinched mouth. When Harry turned to say bye, and thank you, Mr. Moony had disappeared. He looked at the chaise confusedly, and then, hearing Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice, hurried away. His pockets heavy with coins and candies, his ears still buzzing with the sounds of the bubbles, Harry could hardly stop smiling for the rest of the day. He didn’t even care when Dudley tried to take the book from him. Harry just held on tightly, ignoring Aunt Petunia’s bewildered glances at it. Harry looked at the cover, trying to sound out the words. After a whole day, he finally did it. _The Jungle Book._ Ms. Figg read it to him the next day. It was a wonderful story, about a little boy who grew up with wolves. Harry decided it was his favorite book, even though he couldn’t quite remember where he got it from. 

* * *

When Remus meets Harry again, a month later, when Harry is angrily kicking at the ground after being pushed off the swing by Dudley and his friends, it is the first time for Harry.

Every time is the first time for Harry. That’s the price that Remus knows he has to pay, to keep the news from getting to Petunia and then Dumbledore. Remus cries every time he watches Harry’s features blur again, as the little boy blinks and forgets. 

Petunia notices him and recognizes him during the third visit. Remus knows from her startled look at him as Harry walks away from him toward her. He stares back at the woman, daring her to say something, But she breaks eye contact first, and then Remus knows he is safe, at least temporarily. Dumbledore forgets to check in on him, busy as he is with trying to save the world a dozen times over while leaving a young child in the care of these hateful people.

And Remus lives as he always has, since 1981, holding his breath, time marked by painful, lonely full moons. But during those moments with Harry, coloring or reading or listening to the child tell a story to somebody who wants to hear it, Remus lets himself exhale a little bit.

* * *

He knows he cannot be there for Harry like he wants to be, like he owes it to James and Lily to be, like Harry _deserves_ — but Remus tries to give the child pockets of joy, of peace, from his life with the Dursleys. Meals, sweets, toys, books. Those disappear quickly, toys stolen and books torn by Dudley, the food gulped down hungrily by Harry. What Remus hopes really stays with him is the love. Remus tries to convey it to him, as much as a friendly neighbor-magician can. He tells Harry he is wonderful, and brilliant, and so lovable. He reads him stories about characters who are brave and bold, who have found family within friends. He shows the boy wonderful magic tricks and watches the boy light up. And even as Remus sits in his apartment after each visit, his shoulders wracked with sobs, he knows he will go back, because it is all he can do. Because for now, this has to be good enough. 

And Harry is all the better for it. Even when his aunt and uncle send him to bed with no dinner, because he accidentally set a bush on fire after Dudley tried to get him to touch the poison ivy on it, Harry feels suspiciously full. Even after Uncle Vernon tells him horrible, awful things about himself, a voice in Harry’s head tells him it’s not really true. And when Harry finally boards the Hogwarts Express, seven years after meeting Mr. Moony for the first time, he is a boy filled with trauma and neglect, yes—but also with love, hope, and trust. 


End file.
